


Some Words Unsaid

by planet_hopper



Category: Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, nothing is resolved but at least they have each other, the brig has issues, these people need some rest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:54:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25666261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/planet_hopper/pseuds/planet_hopper
Summary: Life at U.N.I.T. is always busy and impossible, but they manage to carve out time for each other anyway.Short glimpses of the Brigadier's feelings during the Doctors exile.
Relationships: Third Doctor/Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21





	Some Words Unsaid

The infuriating man _had_ to be the Doctor. Who else would crash into his life once again, with that police box of his, a seemingly incredible story and simply _horrendous_ dress sense. He also managed to save the world, if the Brigadier needed further proof of his identity, and had become fast friends with Dr. Liz Shaw, so he supposed they'd have to keep him around for a bit. 

Which was not to say that the whole matter hadn't left him terribly tired and confused. It didn't help that the Doctor seemed to be just as confused as he was, and hurt, badly, in some indefinable way that Alistair wasn't quite sure he ever wanted to know about. 

When he'd asked the Doctor about Zoe and Jamie he had been met with a carefully constructed mask of indifference, and so he had backed away. He wondered now if that had been the wise thing to do. 

-

The Doctor is more comfortable around him now. He can see it in the way the muscles in his back stop tightening when he enters a room, in his smile, in his gentle teasing that no longer holds that little edge of danger. The way he grins so wide and says, "Don't worry so much, Lethbridge-Stewart. It'll all be alright."

The Brigadier thinks about the Doctor, thinks about him too much, and worries anyway. 

-

They never really had a conversation, never really let off the steam developed between them during that entire Silurian fiasco. It strains their professional relationship, until Liz has a quiet word with each of them. 

After that, they're more cordial with each other, and from there it's an easy slide into being friends once more. 

A few times, the Brigadier has seen the Doctor eyeing him in a manner that suggests he wants to talk. Talk about them, about what UNIT really ought to stand for, about a million other topics that they delicately skirt around, because to acknowledge them would be disaster. To acknowledge them might mean a disagreement stronger than their usual harsh words, it might mean a crumbling of their little team, the team that the world relies on to keep them safe from aliens. 

Sometimes Alistair can imagine the Doctor’s voice, hurt and confused, "Am I one of those aliens you need to keep people safe from? Am I another possible threat, to be disposed of if need be?"

And he wants to say no and be completely sure of it, but he knows that he can't. 

-

Liz had left, left too soon, and Alistair thought it would only be a matter of time before the Doctor followed her. He had never failed to make his loathing of the military clear, so the Brigadier was pleasantly surprised when the Doctor showed no signs of budging from his lab after Miss Shaw's departure. 

He soon found out that the Doctor and he were rather similar in their habits. Both a little fussy about their clothes, both only taking their tea Just So (although the way the Doctor took his tea was…with excessive sugar, to say the least), and both of them often working to the point of collapse. 

The timelord did have far more stamina than him, and so it was not uncommon for Lethbridge-Stewart to wake up in the wee hours of the morning at his desk with the Doctor's cloak or a soft blanket draped around him gently, and a steaming mug of coffee to boot. 

-

There is a companionable silence between them, as the Doctor tinkers at his workbench and Alistair tries to get through the mountains of paperwork after another long, tiring day. He'd brought his work into the Doctor’s lab because…well, he wasn't entirely sure. Something about the smooth cadence of the wind through the trees that night had driven him to seek out company. 

It was on nights like these, when the Brigadier was not sure of himself, when the slightest whisper from the past drove him so despairingly deep in his work that he forgot what he was without it. 

He jumped slightly at the hand on his shoulder and looked up into the concerned face of the Doctor. 

"You feeling alright, dear chap?" 

Alistair blinked away some ridiculous tears that were threatening to fall and cleared his throat. 

"I am perfectly well, thank you Doctor."

Some part of his mind that he had locked away long ago, when he first saw what a grenade could do to a man, begged for attention. Here was a man, or rather someone more than a man, who he could talk to. Who could possibly understand him. Who was not part of the command structure that had governed his life for so long. Who had seen other suns up close and marvels beyond - 

"Understand what, Lethbridge-Stewart?" 

Flushing, Alistair realized he must have said some of that out loud. He rubbed a hand over his tired eyes. God, he needed sleep. 

He felt a callused hand cupping the side of his face, gently, as though he were made of glass. He looked up into the Doctor’s eyes, which were warm and anxious. 

"Alis-" 

He was cut off by the Brigadier leaping to his feet and hugging him tight, so very tight. The Doctor held the old soldier and let him weep on his shoulder. Waited until the barely-there sobs died out. 

-

"My God, how do you do that?" 

The Brigadier blinked clear eyes at him, as though he hadn't been crying his heart out a few moments ago. 

"Do what?" 

"Well, whenever I've felt the need for a good cry, I blubber on and wail for hours. And you just…turn off the waterworks like that! Unbelievable!" 

"Are you… _jealous_ of my ability to mask my emotions?" 

"No! Yes! Look, it doesn't matter."

Alistair smiled at the Doctor, who fidgeted slightly. 

"It's just, ah well. The other day progress on the TARDIS was particularly horrible, and Yates had run out of cocoa and it was terrible weather and Bessie wasn't talking to me," 

"Wait what- _Bess_ -" 

The Doctor waved his arms impatiently, "The point is, Brigadier, I was sitting down over there, moist-eyed, when Jo found me-" 

"Oh dear," the Brigadier muttered under his breath. 

"-and she just would not accept that I was alright really. Practically swaddled me in blankets and poured hot cocoa over my head. I wasn't able to do a thing that afternoon, except for being pampered," he finished hotly. 

"Oh my," said Alistair, not even bothering to keep a straight face, "that must have been simply awful."

Later, he wasn’t sure who had leaned in first. The Doctor had tasted of shared coffee and starlight and something beyond his understanding, and Alistair felt at peace having the words whispered against his skin.

_"I love you."_

**Author's Note:**

> I have a lot of feelings about these two and am sad and repressed what did you expect.


End file.
